CHAPTER 51: NIGHT WITH SYDNEY

The warm water cascaded down my shoulders, washing away the sweat and tension from earlier. I stood under the showerhead in the ground floor bathroom, letting the heat penetrate my muscles as steam filled the small space. It was miraculous that the water still worked—one of the few luxuries left in this crumbling world.

Sydney and I had agreed, without needing to discuss it, that we’d shower separately. What had happened between us was still too raw, too new to navigate the intimacy of sharing that space. There was an unspoken understanding that we needed these few minutes apart to process what had just changed between us.

When I finished, I wrapped a towel around my waist and walked to the living room. "All yours," I called softly.

I heard her footsteps padding across the hallway, and the soft click of the bathroom door closing behind her. While she showered, I found myself standing by the living room window, watching the empty street outside. The silence was deafening—no cars, no voices, no signs of life. Just the occasional rustle of wind through abandoned debris.

Twenty minutes later, we were both back in the living room, freshly cleaned and wearing comfortable clothes.

Sydney settled beside me on the couch, close enough that I could smell the faint scent of soap on her skin, and tucked her knees up to her chest before leaning against my shoulder.

"What should we watch?" I asked, scrolling through the surprisingly extensive DVD collection we’d found in the house.

"Something mindless," she murmured, her breath warm against my neck.

I paused on a familiar cover. "How about this? I Am Legend. Haven’t seen this in years."

Sydney lifted her head to look at the case. "A zombie movie? Really? Given our current circumstances? You are really a sadist Ryan."

"It’s not zombies, technically. They’re more like... infected," I said with a wry smile. "Besides, sometimes fiction makes reality feel less surreal."

She considered this, then nodded. "Okay. But if I have nightmares, you’re staying up with me."

"Deal."

I slipped the disc into the player, and soon Will Smith’s voice filled the room as Dr. Robert Neville began his daily routine in an empty New York City.

Sydney settled more comfortably against me, her body warm and solid against my side. I found myself hyperaware of every point of contact between us—her shoulder pressed to my ribs, the way her hair tickled my chin when she shifted, the steady rhythm of her breathing. The memory of her skin under my hands was still so vivid that I had to force myself to focus on the screen.

"God, Manhattan looks so empty," Sydney said quietly as the camera panned over abandoned streets. "It’s weird seeing it like that in a movie when we just lived through something similar."

"At least our city had other people," I replied. "Can you imagine being completely alone like him?"

We watched in comfortable silence as Will Smith’s character went through his methodical daily routine—working out, hunting deer through the empty streets, talking to mannequins in a video store. There was something both admirable and heartbreaking about his determination to maintain normalcy in an insane world.

Then came the scene where he spoke to the female mannequin, pleading with her to say hello, his voice cracking with loneliness.

"It must have been so hard for him to find himself alone like that," Sydney said softly, her fingers absently playing with the hem of my shirt. "I mean, completely alone."

"Yeah, at least he has his dog," I replied, watching as Sam the German Shepherd bounded across the screen.

Sydney was quiet for a moment, and I could feel her thinking. "But human touch is important, don’t you think? I don’t think I would have kept my sanity this long, even with a dog."

"Yeah, you’re right. After my mom died, I nearly lost it completely. I would have, if I hadn’t stumbled across Rachel and Rebecca when they needed help. And your presence..." I paused a bit. "Your presence saved me too."

She tilted her head to look at me, a small smile playing at her lips. "So basically, without me, you would have turned completely mad?"

"That’s exactly what I said," I replied, laughing despite myself.

"Then you should thank me forever for keeping you sane," she said.

"I think I thanked you pretty thoroughly today, don’t you?" I said.

She flushed prettily and pinched my waist hard enough to make me yelp. "Idiot."

We settled back into comfortable silence, her body molding against mine as we continued watching. The movie played on, and I found myself getting lost in both the story and the sensation of Sydney’s breathing synchronizing with mine. Her hand had found its way to rest on my chest, right over my heart, and I wondered if she could feel how it sped up every time she moved.

Somehow we really were acting like a couple...

But then with how intimate we had been before, such things was almost normal for her and me.

Then came the scene I’d forgotten about—the one where Sam gets infected and Will Smith has to strangle his only companion with his bare hands. The raw anguish on the actor’s face as he held his dying dog was almost unbearable to watch.

Truly Will Smith was a genius actor.

I wonder what he is doing right now?

Maybe he really turned into a Legend?

"Oh god," Sydney whispered, and I felt her tense against me. "He lost his only friend."

"Sydney," I said hesitantly, "don’t you ever want to try to find your family?"

She’d never talked about her parents, and whenever the subject came up, she seemed to shut down completely. But after what we’d shared today, after the walls that had come down between us, maybe she’d be willing to open up.

For a long moment, she didn’t respond.

"No," she said finally, her voice flat. "They don’t care about me either way."

I waited, sensing there was more.

"They gave me a house, money, and basically threw me away, telling me to take care of myself," she continued, still staring at the TV screen. "I was fifteen when they handed me the keys and said they were moving to Europe for Dad’s work. No invitation, no discussion. Just... ’Here’s your independence, figure it out.’"

I’d known Sydney came from wealth I mean her House was gigantic—but I’d never realized the cost of that privilege.

"You really didn’t want to stay in that house, did you?" I said, finally understanding why she’d been this eager to leave New York despite having a massive, well-protected home.

"That house was never home," she said quietly. "It was just... a place they parked me."

"We all have complicated relationships with our parents," I said, thinking of my own mother’s struggles with depression, Rachel and Rebecca’s absent father. "At least you, me, Rachel, and Rebecca understand each other in that way."

Sydney shifted slightly, lifting her head to look at me. "What about the others? Miss Ivy seems pretty put-together."

I shrugged. "I honestly have no idea what her story is. Christopher, Cindy and Jason are pretty normal. And Liu Mei... she’s almost too casual about all this. Like the apocalypse is just another Tuesday for her."

Sydney laughed softly at that. "Maybe some people are just built for chaos."

We fell quiet again then peacefully watching the movie.

"Do you think we’ll stay here until the end?" Sydney asked suddenly, her voice small.

"That would be too good to be true," I replied automatically, then immediately regretted the honesty.

The virus inside me, the way it seemed to draw danger like a magnet—it was only a matter of time before that caught up to us.

I thought about the White Lady’s warning, the dread that had settled in my stomach when she’d spoken about the dangers I was attracting. And I knew deep down the danger was real, I could feel it as if the Virus itself was warning me to brace myself and run.

Rachel and Elena might draw infected because of the virus I’d given them, but I was the original host. What I attracted would be far worse—other survivors, dangerous ones, who knew what I carried and wanted it for themselves.

When they found me—not if, but when—they wouldn’t just kill me. They’d kill everyone around me to get what they wanted.

Maybe I should leave. Maybe I should stabilize Rachel and Elena’s conditions and then disappear before I brought that danger down on everyone else.

"Hey," Sydney said softly, and I realized my expression must have darkened. "Don’t get depressed because of my shitty parents."

I forced a smile, not wanting to burden her with my fears. "Sorry. Just thinking."

She studied my face for a moment, her eyes serious. "You’re not thinking about my parents."

I should have known she’d see through me. Sydney had always been perceptive, always able to read the things I tried to hide.

"It’s nothing," I said. "Just... wondering what tomorrow will bring."

Sydney shifted beside me, breaking me from my brooding thoughts. "Tomorrow we’re visiting the town. Aren’t you excited?"

I turned to look at her, noting the way her eyes sparkled with anticipation despite everything we’d been through. "I’d rather stay here where it’s safe," I said honestly.

She made a face at me. "God, you’re so boring sometimes."

"Yet you still came to me when you wanted to lose your virginity," I pointed out with a smirk.

Sydney’s cheeks flushed pink, and she gave an exaggerated sigh. "Sometimes life is cruel and our options are limited."

"Right, right," I said, rolling my eyes. "I’m such a terrible burden to bear."

She giggled in response.

We settled back into comfortable silence, watching as the movie built toward its climactic finale. When Will Smith made his final sacrifice, sealing himself in the lab to ensure the cure survived, Sydney’s grip on my hand tightened.

"Do you think we’ll ever find a cure for this mess?" She asked me.

Actually I had what could be considered a cure, but it came with conditions that made me sick to think about. The virus inside me was stronger, more aggressive—it could cannibalize and destroy other strains, but only through the most intimate of contacts. Only through what we’d just shared.

And it only worked for women. Men were left with no options at all, which felt like a cosmic joke of the cruelest kind or maybe the highest blessing in my case...

Regardless what I had couldn’t actually be called a Cure. It was just another Virus stronger so yes I hoped we found true cure to it.

"I hope so," I said instead, my voice more strained than I’d intended.

Sydney must have noticed something in my tone because she looked at me with concern. "Hey, what’s wrong?"

"Nothing," I lied, forcing a smile. "Just thinking about what Will Smith’s character went through. All that isolation, all that responsibility."

"Well, whatever happens, at least we’re not alone."

As the credits began to roll, neither of us moved to turn off the TV or get up from the couch. The day’s emotional and physical exhaustion was catching up with us both, and the warmth of Sydney’s body against mine was too comforting to abandon.

"We should probably go to bed," Sydney said, but she made no effort to move.

"Probably," I agreed, but I was already feeling my eyelids growing heavy.

Sydney adjusted her position slightly, tucking herself more securely against my side. Her breathing began to slow and deepen, and I could feel the tension leaving her muscles as sleep started to claim her.

Both of us hadn’t been able to fall asleep but now after sex and a movie and wrapped in each other’s warmth, exhaustion finally won out.

"Good night, Ryan..." She whispered groggily.

"Yeah, good night," I also closed my tired eyes.